Here Comes the Rush Before We Touch
by realnikkiheat
Summary: She's not waiting up for him. She's not.


_All I want to get is  
A little bit closer  
All I want to know is  
Can you come a little closer?  
_-Tegan and Sara, _'Closer'_

* * *

She's not waiting up for him.

She's not.

She'd planned on leaving the precinct in time to grab a late dinner alone, wash the day away with a quick shower, and fall into bed.

But then her phone had rung just as she was stepping on the elevator, his face lighting up the screen, a flicker of girlish excitement running through her without her consent.

"_Be honest, Beckett- How excited are you? Have you been counting down the days on your calendar? Can I expect an _enthusiastic _homecoming? I'm thinking whipped cream and that lacy black number…" His voice is low but clear, carrying over the white noise of the airport in the background._

"_I'm thinking Chinese food and a t-shirt," she counters, rolling her eyes and hoping he can't hear her smile through the phone. It's good to hear his voice, even if he is being ridiculous._

"_We can negotiate," he continues breezily. "Please tell me you're not still at the precinct, at least."_

"_On my way out right now." She holds her free hand up to the phone, jingling her car keys._

"_You going back to your place? 'Cause you can stay at the loft, you know."_

"_Wow, Castle," she chuckles, her laugh echoing in the parking garage. "You're really angling for this booty call, huh?" She keeps her voice light and teasing; there's no way she's going to admit that she's already spent a few nights in the empty loft over the past week._

"_You know that's not it," his voice is soft now. "You can just crash. I'll be quiet when I get in, careful not to wake you." She feels a low flutter in her chest as he continues seriously. Always manages to catch her off guard, this man. "We can wake up together."_

That had been hours ago, and yet here she is, lying awake in his bed in the middle of the night. She huffs as she rolls over for the hundredth time, wrapped up in one of his old t-shirts, her wet hair dampening his pillow-

She's restless, her mind still whirring with fragments of evidence and case details. And fine, maybe she's more than a little excited. It's been a long week- two years ago, seven days without him would hardly have qualified as a week _alone_, but now all she wants is to spin theory with him over coffee, to close a case together and head home for dinner.

She shifts again, bare legs getting tangled in the dark sheets as she ends up on her stomach with a sigh. Enough of his scent lingers on his pillow, in the collar of his t-shirt, and she inhales deeply, letting the familiar spice run through her.

Beckett's eyes flutter shut and she takes a few calming breaths as she shifts once more, pushing one arm beneath the pillow and bringing the other one down, wedging it between her body and the mattress. Her fingers are warm against her skin, the thin barrier of Castle's worn t-shirt doing little to mute their touch. She slowly traces her way down her torso, her hand brushing softly over one breast, fingers tripping down across her stomach. A dull heat is gradually making its way up her body, her cheeks already flushing as she grinds against the bed. It drives all the mundane distractions out of her mind, until she can focus only on _this_.

She could easily reach over to the bedside table, grab something to help her along- _one of Castle's favourites, maybe_. But this is perfect; this is everything she needs right now. Hands on her body, working her over and driving the day from her mind-

She can skim her open palm over her abdomen and feel his hands on her, the firm, steady press that sends her muscles fluttering. She slips her fingers further down in long, gentles strokes against her center, warm even through a layer of cotton. Every pass of her hand leaves her shivering under his touch; every inhale of his scent leaves him wrapped around her.

She slides her legs farther apart, feels the same tightness in her muscles as when she straddles him, the phantom ache of her thighs when she settles over his hips.

Kate buries her face in his pillow, her breathing gradually deepening, coming in long gasps. She strokes herself at an almost leisurely pace, content to draw it out even as she can feel the fabric of her underwear growing damp. The ragged, threadbare cotton of his t-shirt slides over her breasts as she squirms against the bed and draws a soft moan from her lips. Beckett fists her free hand in the pillow at the feeling, the memory of Castle's gentle, callused fingers on her skin.

She finally allows herself more pressure, grinding against her hand, drawing rough, wet circles against her clit through her underwear and humming at the friction. Kate sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, unclenching her free hand and sliding it under her body, when a loud buzzing erupts from her nightstand. The noise throws her off, shocks her and has her jumping in a mini-adrenaline rush that's not at all unpleasant.

She keeps her right hand between her thighs and awkwardly reaches over with her left, grasping for her phone as the screen lights up, still buzzing as the messages keep coming.

_Just crossing the Williamsburg Bridge. Home in 15._

_Not that this is a booty call._

_Not that you're even there._

_Or still awake._

A smile blooms over her face as she tugs her right hand free from the weight of her body, wiping it against his t-shirt before she hurries to reply.

_Might want to hurry. The booty call may have started without you._

Her screen lights up with his answer almost immediately-

_I KNEW IT._

_Be home in five._

Beckett huffs out a laugh as she drops her phone back on the table, rolling her eyes. She probably shouldn't have given him that- he'll be insufferable, now- but she can't be bothered to care.

Besides, not that he needs the ego stroke, but she kind of likes him cocky.

Sometimes.

She flips over onto her back, shimmying out of her ruined panties and tossing them onto the floor at her side. Fingers of one hand carding through her hair, she stretches and lets her right hand return to its place at her center, a new current of excitement bubbling under her skin. She slides her fingers through her folds slowly, keeping herself at bay as she runs her other hand over her breasts, fisting the material of his t-shirt.

To Castle's credit, she barely has to wait ten minutes before she hears his keys in the front door- some cabbie out there must be thanking his lucky stars, thinking he hit the jackpot.

By the time Castle slips into the dark bedroom, the t-shirt is pushed up just beneath her breasts, and she knows her hair must be a mess from all her tossing and turning. Her feet are planted on the bed, legs open and knees raised as she dips a finger into herself, hips bucking at the sensation. It's downright lewd and maybe she's showing too much of her hand (_so to speak…_), but Beckett has no interest in being embarrassed.

She can't even keep the grin off her face as he drops his suitcase by the door, moving toward her almost dazedly.

"How was L.A.?" She breathes out, her hand never stopping.

"Well, you know," he shrugs, raising his eyebrows, and she's impressed that he can manage to play along. "Eternal sunshine, lots of beautiful movie stars." He moves to the end of the bed, sliding one warm hand over knee, and Beckett jumps at the contact. "I really missed the comforts of home, though." His voice is soft, but the deep tones seem to fill up the quiet room.

"Oh please," she attempts a scoff, but the words come out breathy. "I'm sure you were just fine. Exactly how many chests did you sign?"

She's trying to keep her voice even, she really is, but his hand is burning against her skin and his eyes are roving over her body and he just looks so _hungry_, starving, like he's not even trying to hide it.

"Now, Beckett," he chastises her, voice dripping with faux-condescension as he lowers himself onto the bed, resting his weight on his knees and settling himself between her legs. "There's no need to be jealous," Beckett jumps again as he uses his free hand to grab her other leg, effectively holding her open as he watches. "I've told you plenty of times, I'd be happy to do a private signing."

"I am _not_ getting a tattoo of your _signature-_" The end of her rebuttal is lost in a high-pitched laugh as he squeezes her knee, causing her leg to kick out and throwing off the rhythm of her hand.

"You say that _now_," he shrugs, leaning down to place a wet, sucking kiss on her inner thigh, smirking against her skin when she shivers. "But I _am_ your favourite author," he continues the well-worn argument, familiar teasing that she's heard a thousand times, as his tongue traces patterns up her thigh. "And it would look so good next to the other one…"

She hisses his name as he reaches the crease of her thigh, sucking sharply on her sensitive skin, still holding her legs apart. Beckett pulls her fingers away from herself, sliding her hand back up to rub clumsy circles over her clit- makes room for him- but he just chuckles against her, deep vibrations thrumming through her core.

"Exactly," he breathes, leaning forward to scrape his teeth over her hipbone. "_Richard Castle_," his words are muffled, his breath hot against her skin, "right here, I think-"

"_Castle_," she repeats herself, quickly growing too impatient for their banter- she wants to grab him by the hair and force him where she wants him, but one hand is at her breast and the other is on her clit and she can't-

"Put your mouth to better use."

It's shaky and cracked, but she must manage to inject enough authority in her voice, because she feels his groan through her skin and then his mouth is on her, suddenly, devouring her as if he really has been starving.

One hand leaves her knee, deftly spreading her folds, and the grunt she releases is almost inhuman as he licks at her with long, hard strokes of his tongue. He's everywhere- against her, inside her, tasting her, lips sucking at her in loud, wet kisses-

Kate bucks against his mouth, trying to clamp her legs around him despite the hand still holding her knee. It's almost too much, all at once, moans falling freely from her lips as she clamps her eyes shut.

Castle pulls back for a second, grabbing for the hand she's got fisted tightly in the sheets- when the hell did that even happen?

Kate gasps at the loss, but then he's sucking her fingers into his mouth, lapping at them with his tongue, before placing them firmly against her clit once more and returning to his place between her thighs.

A ragged groan is pulled from Kate's lips at his unspoken command, but she's too far gone to challenge him, and she dutifully resumes her movements, fingers scraping over her bundle of nerves in tight circles. Castle dips his tongue into her, harder, rougher, and her body starts to shake as it all overwhelms her.

His hand leaves her knee, arm coming up to lie across her pelvis, pinning her to the bed as she quakes. His teeth scrape over her and Kate jumps, hips torqueing, legs flailing out as she practically rolls onto her side; Castle only holds her tighter, moving with her, mouth never leaving her body as he settles her back on the bed.

The spasms come steadily now, legs shaking as the fingers on her clit grow sloppy; she slides her other hand under the t-shirt and rolls her fingers over her nipples, so sensitive they almost ache, needing something, needing _more_. Another tremor comes and she gets him with her foot, kicks his shoulder, maybe, she doesn't really care-

But then suddenly he's pulling away again, leaving her gasping under cool air, and Beckett wrenches her eyes open in time to see him grab her by the right ankle.

"Do _not_ kick me in the face again." He's panting, his face shiny with her, laughter in his eyes as he holds her still. Beckett grunts out some sort of affirmative, swiping ineffectually at his head, trying to force him back to her.

"I'm serious, Beckett," he warns with a grin, dodging her grip. "Do you have any idea how hard it was to explain that bruise-"

"_Yes_," she pants, giving up her attempt to grab him and instead returning her hand to her center, fingers working quickly. "_Cas- fine, I promise-_"

He's had his fun, thankfully, and he dives back in, nudging her fingers out of the way with his nose and redoubling his efforts- faster, rougher, sharper. It's a matter of seconds until she's finally pushed over the edge, digging her fingers into his hair and holding him to her as she sobs out his name.

She's still gasping for air, her body still shivering with tiny aftershocks of her orgasm, when Castle springs to his feet, clumsily divesting himself of his clothes. It should almost be funny to her- how downright eager he is, the way he flings his shirt somewhere behind him, the obvious bulge in his boxers on display as he awkwardly hops out of his jeans. But she's right behind him, wriggling out of her t-shirt, struggling separate the damp material from her over-heated skin.

He's on her like lightning- she doesn't think she's ever seen him move that fast, certainly not at work- crawling up her body and helping her pull the shirt over her head, fusing his lips to hers- still wet and sharp with _her_- as he settles himself between her thighs.

Beckett digs her heels into his ass, urging him forward, far past the point of patience. It's almost painful when he slides into her- she's so sensitive it almost burns, the feeling of being pulled taut and so thoroughly filled. But it's so _good_, a severe sting that spurs her on, and she grinds her pelvis up against his even as she feels him hesitating, trying to slow himself down.

She sets a fast pace, holding him to her tightly as their hips snap together, the room filled with the sounds of skin on skin. It's over almost distressingly quickly, but Kate can't find it in herself to be self-conscious as she rides out the wave of pleasure-pain, her whole body tight and tingling as he empties himself into her, whispering a week's worth of nonsense in her ear.

They lie there for a long time, Castle's face buried in her chest, as the world slowly returns. Kate lets her mind drift, losing herself in the jagged rhythm of his panting. He rolls off of her eventually, just as the weight becomes uncomfortable, and she can hear him vaguely, far away, making some sort of noise on his side of the bed. It's not until she hears the drawer slam shut and feels him shift over her that her senses come back to her; she snaps her eyes open, reaching out and grabbing the wrist that hovers over her chest.

"Don't even think about it." Her voice is rough, and it's tough to glare when her eyes still don't want to focus, but he freezes, eyes wide and innocent, flicking between her face and the Sharpie in his hand.

"I just thought, as a fan-"

She squeezes his wrist, effectively cutting off his effort at being coy. He winces, but doesn't let go.

"Drop it. Unless you want '_property of KB_' on your forehead for the next week."

He looks like he's actually considering it- _ugh, of course he would_- but Beckett uses the pause to gather her strength and lunge at him, her body twisting over his as she grabs for the marker. It's not long before they're caught up in each other again and it's lost to the sheets.

* * *

She gets him later, in a moment of quiet as he dozes after round three.

Beckett's feeling generous, though, and does him the favour of marking him in a less _public_ spot. As a reward.

She spends the next week making up for lost time, catching him alone in the break room and reveling in his flushed stutters when she surreptitiously sinks her fingers into the flesh of his backside, pinching right over her name.


End file.
